Tell All
by whitefaith
Summary: [complete] Snape has a story to tell, Dumbledore is happy to listen, so he talks of a love lost [SS.HG]


Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I own only the plot, however if any of the characters need a place to stay sometime they are welcome at my house, except Ron. 

***

"Albus, I may have some trouble completing the potion," Snape reluctantly said, standing in the Headmaster's doorway.

Albus's face crinkled more than it already was, confusion obviously coursing through him.

"I don't understand, Severus, why ever not? Is it too difficult?"

Dumbledore stood from his chair and began to pace across the room. The potion was important, in fact, it was critical to the success of the Order's plans. 

Snape slowly replied, "No. There may just be some complexity involved in the gathering of one of the ingredients."

Pausing mid step, Dumbledore sighed with relief, at least it wasn't the difficulty, he acknowledged, if Snape couldn't complete the potion he knew of nobody who could.

"What, exactly, is the ingredient you cannot attain? I have already pointed out that money nor legality is of little concern to me," Dumbledore said, one foot still hovering a few centimetres above the ground.

"Uh, no, they are not the problem, it is just, the potion requires the blood of somebody the potion-maker has, er, deflowered."

Snape crossed his arms characteristically over his chest while Dumbledore finally allowed his foot to rest on the ground and let out a hearty laugh.

"Is that all, Severus," Dumbledore said, a grin still playing at his lips, "I would have thought somebody with your experience would have no trouble with this ingredient."

The furrow in Snape's brow deepened a little as he spoke through gritted teeth, "I do not usually concern myself with. Novices." 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Snape's particular emphasis on the last word, and speaking in a measured way he said, "Surely there must be someone? You know it is vital we have this potion!"

Snape looked down at his shoes and then back up at the Headmaster.

"There is one particular young lady." He muttered, allowing his voice to trail off.

"And who may that be?"

Sitting down, Dumbledore drew a quill and parchment out of his drawer in apprehension.

Now it was Snape's turn to sigh, and at last, after composing himself he spoke.

"Miss Granger."

Dumbledore was quick to move onto the business side of things, he didn't seem at all surprised by this revelation and the only sound in the office for a few minutes was the quill scratching as he wrote things down. 

"I don't think Miss Granger will be too happy to hear my name again." Snape dared to say.

Dumbledore was unconcerned replying, "Oh, I doubt she will be. By the way, how did your relationship with Miss Granger arise? Because, if she was underage."

Dumbledore, thankfully, left the end of the sentence unspoken. Snape, however was still reluctant to speak.

"Please, Severus, take a seat, I believe you have a story for me, and you know how fond I am of stories."

Snape lowered himself onto the comfortable chair, and, steeling himself, he began to talk.

***

"It began almost two years ago, Miss Granger, as you are aware, was in her final year at Hogwarts. 

Now, let me point out straight away that I had never before, and never since then, had any interest in any of my students that was anything less than professional. 

I know that there is a line one mustn't cross, but, Miss Granger, Hermione, was different, special. I mean, all the staff knew she was intelligent, highly intelligent, she showed that from the first time she asked one of her insufferable questions in class. The other teachers, however, didn't seem to see Hermione develop from an annoying know-it-all to someone with an insatiable curiosity for knowledge. 

Well, looking back, I suppose they all knew that she had grown up a little, but nobody else really saw how much. I don't think even I did at the beginning, in fact, I held her in disdain just because she was one of _Potter's _friends. She always was above the likes of him, he was on a quest for publicity as much as she was on a quest for information. And that Weasley boy, don't even let me get started there, he never acknowledged  her as more than a source for convenient homework notes. Intelligence like that just wasted on her pitiful choice of friends. But this story is not about them and their sorry excuses for lives, this is about her, about this wonderful creature who dared to grace my life.

I believe in the beginning she was absolutely petrified of me, as almost all the female students are, well for that matter, _all_ the students are. I remember the look on her face as I tore the door to my office open, like a deer caught in the headlights. I watched her half turn away, prepared to run; I was annoyed more than anything at her for interrupting my quiet evening. 

Had I known how events would unfold I would have appreciated those little moments, savoured the way she had the Gryffindor bravery to knock at my door an hour before curfew, but lacked the Slytherin cunning to get what she wanted.

Oh, don't look at me like that, Albus, what else would she have wanted but assistance with her NEWTs?  

You see, I had set an extra credit assignment, naturally only for my more skilled students, I wasn't really expecting anybody to even attempt this one, even the delightful young Malfoy wisely chose to direct his attention elsewhere. I was honestly hoping that for once I wouldn't have to mark a barrage of idiots' hurried attempts to scrape the extra marks to pass. I had not bargained, however, on the scrupulous efforts of Hermione. 

So sure was she that with just a little guidance she could complete the extra credit assignment she had bothered to hunt me down in her own spare time. It was unheard of, a student voluntarily visiting me, I usually find that when I walk down corridors they dodge out of my line of vision!

So there she stood, the epitome of innocent ambition, stuttering slightly, at the door to my office. And what did I do? Well, I didn't do what any normal red-blooded man would do, I didn't invite her in and offer her all the help she needed. I shot my most intimidating glare at her, refused her and closed the door on her face. 

Oh, it's not so harsh, I never give out aid on my work, not even to those who are failing desperately, so I saw no reason to aid my, dare I admit it, brightest pupil.

Yes, I admit that were she a Slytherin and not a despicable Gryffindor I may have been more cordial, but she wasn't, she was one of _Potter's friends!_

But you know Hermione, well, of course you do, you helped get her that job over at the ministry of magic. Oh yes, well, you know her, she wouldn't give up on the matter!

She had the sense not to ask me in the middle of class, thank Merlin, but she did ask after every class, and it got to a point where I almost stopping eating to avoid the close-to-begging owls at breakfast! Finally she threatened to go to you if I didn't assist her. I could imagine the look on your face when you told me off for refusing to help a student in need.

And so I made mistake number one, I finally offered her the help she sought. 

Really, I had no choice in the end, if I think about it, it wasn't really my fault! She initiated the entire situation, if she had just given up when I said no we may never have. 

But I can't blame her, no, not when there is that part of me that admits to being responsible.

I thought it would only take one night, I would meet her in the dungeons . Well, did you really expect me to invite her into _my _private office? I think not.

Turned out she had an interest in Anti-Trepidation draught, Merlin knows why, some female quest for truth, love and beauty I suppose, I never really asked her.

So there she was, sitting in my classroom, telling me how Madigo Fellberg's original research on the Anti-Trepidation draught was wrong and asking why hadn't extra research been done? At first I was completely infuriated, Madigo Fellberg was one of the greatest researchers of his time, and still is. From memory, didn't you have the chance to meet him a century or so ago before his death? I must admit I am quite jealous of you there.

Hermione, she sat there, I still remember the way she perched on the edge of her chair, her movements animated, telling me exactly what should be done about this lack of research. Honestly,I don't remember much of what she said, but I remember the way her eyes lit up, the enthusiasm she had for the topic, I was hypnotised, and that is what caused me to make mistake number two. 

I agreed to research the topic with her.

Hindsight, a curse and a blessing, makes me see how clichéd the situation was before we even met a second time.

The grumpy potions teacher agrees to partake in Anti-Trepidation draught research with his young, intelligent female student. 

She had this theory that a more concentrated form of the truth potion could be obtained by adding the fairy wings just before it's stirred anti-clockwise, but she had no proof.

The full moon required to brew the potion was about a week after that. I hadn't brewed a potion with anyone else's help in years. My most recent partner had botched four months worth of work with the foul swipe of the hand. But working with Hermione felt so right, like she instinctively knew exactly when to do everything. I didn't have to ask for an ingredient, she would already have it in her hand, already measured, about to pass it to me. 

Watching her stir the potion, watching her eyes alight with excitement. I knew she still loved the simple pleasures of potion making, the delicate shades they take on, the satisfaction from completing something right.

When we both stood back and looked at our work she asked me how we could be sure it was right. We tested it, she took half the amount usually required to get but a few minutes of complete poise. I handed her a piece of paper with a big red F on it, she laughed and said maybe she should get some of the potion for everyday use.

She spoke to me as an equal after it wore off. If she had to try it, it was only fair I did too.

She didn't know my fears, I dare not tell them to anybody, so she talked to me instead. 

She asked me if I enjoyed working with her. I couldn't deny it. She asked me if I'd like to meet her the next night to discuss our results. I couldn't deny that either. As she said good bye she called me Severus. It rolled off her tongue like she was meant to say it. 

I stood there dumbstruck.

The next night I was nervous. I never get nervous. I had tried to flick the switch to turn off the caustic, evil part of me. I couldn't boss him around before that night and he didn't see why I should start then.

She looked the picture of perfection sitting in my office. I suggested we meet there for comfort's sake mainly. Her hair was out over her shoulders and she kept pushing it back throughout our conversation. 

We got distracted from our own work, and somehow ended up debating the elixir of life. When we finally got back on track she asked if there was some journal we could publish our work in. I couldn't help it, I laughed. I didn't laugh in a self satisfied way, I laughed because she knew no better, her naivety was precious. But she looked as if I had slapped her across the face. When I saw her sitting there like that, offended, embarrassed and angry all at once I couldn't help but feel guilty. One doesn't usually associate feelings of guilt with a death-eater, ex or not. 

So I apologised. I don't think I have ever done such an out of character thing in my life, but I couldn't bear to think it was I who plastered such a pretty face with such emotions. 

As soon as she had recovered from the shock of me saying sorry she went straight onto talking about how we should get our work known. From that we moved onto books, and to muggle literature, we couldn't stop talking. 

At last I gave up trying to talk about our work and let myself be swept away by her voice. Earlier on I had moved from my desk chair onto the sofa next to her. She didn't seem repulsed, she didn't even seem to care, she just kept talking about how she'd love to visit the pyramids one day.

She kept using my name, my first name, throughout the night, like it didn't matter. I tried using hers, it made her smile. I decided I liked her smile and that I wanted to see more of it. I didn't have to do a lot, when she told a joke she would laugh at the punch line herself. Her jokes made me laugh as well; she seemed to like my laugh. 

She was so accepting, so patient, she let me complain about my nagging mother, and she sat there, offering advice, as though she wanted to be there helping me. Her hands would sit in her lap while I talked, but when she spoke they would rouse, flying through the air, accenting her point. 

I don't know what point during the night it was, but after a few hours I gave up trying to keep my own hands in my lap. I couldn't just watch such a creature anymore. 

When she paused for a breath after another long speech I reached out to her, moving a strand of hair back behind her ear from where it had escaped. 

She just looked at me, but not with fright, with something else, something magical. And then she smiled.

She kept smiling as I cupped her cheek and leant in to kiss her.

I don't think I did anything wrong. She was as eager as I was.

When we broke apart I kept my face close to hers and whispered in her ear.

In told her I thought I loved her.

She didn't jerk back, but she whispered the same thing back.

Her voice when she said that still echoes in my ear until this day. 

The next morning, as she lay there in my arms, right where she felt like she was supposed to be, in my bed, we talked some more. I've never been a man to waste words, but between us there seemed so much to say, it felt like a stream of conversation was flowing but never stopping.

We began to talk about The Order. I knew it was coming, it was just another thing we had in common, and we talked about everything during that 24 hours. 

It was strange because although she had been a fully fledged member of The Order for over a month we had never spoken to each other. Not at the meetings or within the Black house.

She told me about how you had discussed an idea for her to go undercover. It was so dangerous; I couldn't believe you had thought it up!

It was then made my third mistake, if you don't count sleeping with her a mistake. Well, I assume it was a mistake, there are times when I think I did the right thing.

I banned her from participating in your hare-brained scheme. Going undercover, associating with Death eaters, the Hermione would have been out of her depth. She was indignant, and rightly so now I look back. I was not in a position to tell her what to do, but I knew that if I didn't tell her she would get herself killed.

It was such a change from earlier that morning when we lay there lazily telling each other how in love we were. All of a sudden she had rolled over to the other side of the bed and was using her wand to gather her clothing. 

She told me that if I really loved her I would trust her make her own decisions.

I told her that she would get herself killed.

She told me that she regretted the entire night and she knew nothing could work out between us.

I told her I knew that from the start, nobody would support our relationship anyway.

So she yelled that I had no right to run her life and she never wanted to see me again.

She left the room.

I fumed for a few days. I thought she would change her mind. But I was wrong. She obviously never wanted to see me again because she began avoiding me at functions and meetings. We both know she graduated soon after and to my relief she never participated in your mad idea. I don't even think she is still a member of The Order.

I have written letters to her countless times, but I could never send them.

I know if I had the daring I could go visit her anytime.

But I know she doesn't want to see my face again.

I know she wants no news of the horrible man who took her virginity, broke her heart and drove her away from The Order that she was so dedicated to."

***

"It was a lovely story, Severus," Dumbledore was leaning his chin in hands, "I always knew you'd tell me the exact circumstances surrounding your relationship eventually."

"You knew?"

Snape ran his hands through his greasy hair in disbelief.

"Of course I knew. I know everything. Now, I'll just send Miss Granger an owl and we'll-"

Snape interrupted saying, "You can't do that, she won't participate."

 "She will participate, and so will you."

Snape stood brusquely and walked away from the Headmaster's measured glare.

***

The knife passed through her flesh easily, drops of bright red liquid drizzled down her arm and were finally captured in a tiny vial. When the glass cocoon threatened to overflow she spoke the healing spell and abruptly the blood stopped flowing. 

She handed him the vial and he took it silently, unable to say what he felt. 

At last he asked her one of the hundreds of things he wanted to know.

"You understand what this means, don't you? There can be no more denying it happened."

She turned abruptly and walked, making to leave the cold room. 

"I never said I did deny what happened" Hermione said, paused in the doorway. When she realised there was no more that he would say, she backed away, out of his sight, out of his life. 

He at last had what he needed, but never what he wanted.

The almighty Severus Snape was frozen in his spot, a glass vial in his hand and the image of her in his heart.

Staring at the door where her warm form had once passed he spoke the words into the still night air, where only a fool would listen.

"But I still love you."

The End

***

AN: It started as a drabble, it became an epilogue and now it s a fully fledged story.

Special thanks go to MissScarletBlack [look her up at Fictionpress.com] for the Anti-Trepidation Draught idea *hugs*. 


End file.
